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Chap^P.Z.7 Copyright No._ 

Shelf..j.D^3 

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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 

















































































































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Sunny H?our Scrtrs. — Uol. K 


Bertha’s Garden 

AND OTHER STORIES 


% _ 

.BY 

Anna Burnham Bryant 


BOSTON 

pilgrim press 

CHICAGO 



(p NOV 211899 



^ r Y OS O > 







4B996 

Copyright, 1899, 

By Anna Burnham Bryant. 


TWO COPIES RECEIVED. 



(a? • 

<£*>*: .'3. V '3<5 . 



CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Bertha’s Garden.5 

Mother’s Last Word . . . . . 11 

“An Old Hen-biddy” ..... 15 

Benny’s Garden.19 

Little Miss Not-afraid.22 

What Made the Difference . . . . 27 

Cheer Up !.31 

Dolly’s Giant Story . . . . . 32 

For Baby’s Sake.35 

A Birthday Resolution.40 

Why They Were Late.41 

The Fire-shine.46 

A Lesson by Heart.48 

Her Little Verse . . . . . . 51 

Two Little Texts. 56 

Baby’s Rhyme.. . 57 







note: 


By the courtesy of The Youth's Companion , Wide 
Awake , Happy Hours , and some other papers, these 
little stories are here reprinted for the Sunday-school 
library. 


BERTHA'S GARDEN 


ERTHA was up 
early every morn¬ 
ing, and outdoors 
with her little rake and 
shovel and her garden 
hat on, for papa had 
given her a dear little 
spot for her very own, 
and she meant to make 
sure of having it full 
of the prettiest flowers. 
She could n’t understand 
why mamma had seemed to care so much 
about the shape of it. Mamma said it must 
be heart-shaped —just like this : 

Bertha thought that was a j 
very pretty shape, and of course 
it could be as mamma liked. 

Another thing about that gar- 






6 


BERTHA'S GARDEN 


den was that there were to be no weeds in 
it. That, too, was just what Bertha wanted, 
so she and mamma seemed to be quite of the 
same mind. 

“What for should I want weeds in my 
garden?” she asked, laughing at the idea. 
“ That is n’t what papa gives it to me for! ” 

“ No, indeed,” said mamma, “ but you will 
find out that it takes a good deal of watching 
to keep the weeds down.” 

“Oh, I’ll watch! and watch!” promised 
Bertha. 

Bertha made a little book to keep the 
names of the flowers in that she planted 
You know that flowers in the beginning are 
nothing but little brown seeds that look no 
more like flowers than anything. And even 
if you can tell the seeds apart when you hold 
them in your hand, once they are covered up 
in the ground you cannot tell, and it is no 
use trying to remember where you put them. 
I have tried it many a time. So, as I said, 
Bertha had a book. Away down at the point 
of the garden-heart she put some bright blue 



AND OTHER STORIES 


7 


larkspurs. Then there were “ touch-me-not 
balsams,” all colors, and pinks and asters and 
bluebells, for everybody gave her seeds, and 
Bertha planted every one. I could not begin 



to tell you all the flowers that went into that 
garden-bed. And for a border there was an 
edge of pansies that went clear round the 
bed. 

Mamma had a book, too. Her garden was 
heart-shaped, like Bertha’s. But the queerest 
flowers went down in it — if they were 
flowers! Some of them anybody would 
know were nothing but weeds and poison 
plants ; but mother used to sigh when she 
talked about it, and said that she did not know 


8 


BERTHA'S GARDE AT 


how to pull up the weeds in this garden. 
They were stronger than she was. One day 
she told Bertha that she should certainly try 
to find somebody to help her. 

“ Where is your old garden?” said Ber¬ 
tha crossly. “ I never 
see it. You only talk 
about it, but you never 
show it to me.” 

“ I can’t show you 
the garden,” said mam¬ 
ma soberly, “ but I will 
let you see the picture 
of it in my book, and 
what is planted in it.” 

When Bertha looked, 
she saw only the figure 
of a heart marked 
“Bertha’s Garden,” 
and there were dreadful pictures of tall weeds 
among the flowers, with names like these: 
“Crossness,” “Selfishness,” “Thoughtless¬ 
ness,” “ Disobedience.” And they grew so 
coarse and tall, with great rough leaves like bur- 



AND OTHER STORIES 


9 



docks and thorns and spines like thistles, that 
they quite overshadowed the few real flowers 

that tried to 
grow among 
them. There 
was a little pink 
rose called 
“ Love/’ and a 
blue “ Forget-me-not ” 
of “ Kindness,” but it 
was a sad-looking gar¬ 
den, and mamma looked 
very sorry as she looked 
at it. 

“ O mamma, I know 
what you mean ! ” sobbed 
Bertha, hiding her face 
on mamma’s shoulder. 
“You think my heart 
looks like that to God.” 

“ Yes,” said mamma, 
“ and it can’t look any 
different till you get Jesus to help you take 
care of it. You know that I cannot really 


BERTHA'S GARDEN 


IO 

keep it for you. If I should help you pull 
up a few weeds, they would soon grow again. 
And no matter what good seeds I plant, they 
never will grow and blossom unless you give 
it in charge to the Good Gardener. He is 
the only one who can make it ‘ fair to see. 



AND OTHER STORIES 


I I 


MOTHER'S LAST WORD 


O matter what 
the errand 
was, mother 
always had 
one last word 
to say about 
it. When, 
the little hat 
or hood was 
on, and the 
pail or bas¬ 
ket swinging 
from the arm, we always came and stood be¬ 
fore her and heard her say : — 

“ Now, dear, how are you going on this 1 
errand for mamma ? ” 

“ Right straight there and back again ! ” 
was the answer to be given. 

“And suppose you meet anybody by the 
way r 




12 


BERTHA'S GARDEN 


“ Mind nossing at all about zem! ” little 
Ellie used to say, as all the others did, from 
big brother down. 

“ But what if they ask you to do some bad 
thing that you know mamma would n’t like ? ” 
“ I ’ll say, ‘ No, I won’t do it! ’ ” 

“ But if they coax and beg you ?” 

“ Why, then,” said Ellie, with bright, flash¬ 
ing eyes, “ I ’ll say, My mamma says, ‘ Say 
NO! ’ ” 

When mamma heard that, she laughed and 
cried and kissed her, and said : — 

“ If you ’ll only say that always, I ’ll trust 
you anywhere! ” 


Thy soul’s a lily, fair and white, 

As fresh and lovely in God’s sight — 
An innocent sweet bloom. 

Ask him, dear child, where’er you go, 
To help to keep it ever so. 



AND OTHER STORIES 


13 








BERTHA'S GARDEN 


14 



“ Ah, ha! oh, ho ! ” says the little black crow.i 
“ I ’m watching your corn to see it grow, 
Watching and tending it day by day, 

I’m a wise old crow, with no time for play.” 





AND OTHER STORIES 


15 


“AN OLD HEN-BIDDY ” 



HERE ’S just the 
silliest old hen- 
biddy out there 
in the yard that ever 
you saw! ” cried Alice, 
running in with her sun- 
bonnet off and all her 
curls flying. 

“Why, what has she 
done?” cried Uncle 
Frank, behind the big 
newspaper. 

“ Stands and clucks 
at the chickens the 

whole forenoon if she sees them going any¬ 
where near the edge of the bank where the 
ducks are. Of course the chickens want to 
go in too — and / don’t believe ’t would hurt 
’em, either! ” 






6 


BERTHA'S GARDEN 


“Goosie!” said Uncle Frank, and just 
then he forgot to say anything more, for his 
eye caught a paragraph in the paper that he 



wanted to read, and he never thought of 
Alice or her hen-biddy afterward. 

But out in the yard Alice was finding out 
for herself just why she was a goose, without 
anybody’s helping. When she ran out, there 




AND OTHER STORIES 


I7 


was Mrs. Hen in a terrible flutter and two of 
her little chicks tipped up sidewise in the 
water, their little yellow claws on top, and 
their poor little draggled heads too deep for 
drinking. They had not minded the mother- v 
hen’s scolding and went for a little swim in 
spite of all she could say about it. It did not 
take Alice half a minute to fish the two little 
wet bunches of feathers out and set them 
where they would dry; and while she was 
doing it, she scolded them. 

“Thought you did a smart thing when 
your mother said ‘ Don’t>’ to go and do it, 
didn’t you?” she said, watching their eyes 
open. “As if your mother didn’t know! 
That’s the way boys and girls act when their 
folks say ‘Don’t touch things!’ ‘Let rum 
and whiskey alone ! ’ ‘ Don’t go into bad 

comp’ny ! ’ And they think their folks don’t 
know anything, and so they get wet and 
mizzable ! ” 

“ Good for you ! ” shouted somebody from 
the back window, and Alice looked up just 
in time to see Uncle Frank’s laughing eyes. 


i8 


BERTHA'S GARDEN 



'< . \ i 


BENNY’S GARDEN 



















AND OTHER STORIES 


19 


BENNY'S GARDEN 




’S garden was full 
of weeds. I don’t 
mean to say that it 
was very different from 
other little boys’ gar¬ 
dens. 

Sister Minna had a 
garden, 

too, which she kept like the 
parlor carpet. I’d like to 
have seen you try to find a 
weed or a chip or a bit of 
paper blown over the fence in¬ 
to it! She had the sweetest 
flowers growing there, and 
often filled the parlor vases. 

Sometimes she came over and 
looked at Benny’s garden, and 
went back feeling very proud of herself. 











20 


BERTHA'S (PARDEN 


And sometimes Benny came over, and went 
back with a very different look on his face. 

“Do you know what I would do?” said 
Cousin Margie, who was visiting at their 
house. “ I would spend half an hour a day 
on Benny’s garden, every day of my life, and 
show the little fellow how to do it. Why, he 
is all discouraged ! ” 

Half the time, it is n’t real unkindness that 
makes people seem unkind. They just don’t 
think to be kind, that’s all. It wasn’t half a 
minute before good little Minna had her sun- 
bonnet on and her rake and other garden 
tools in hand, and when Cousin Margie 
looked out of the window, a few minutes 
later, she saw just what you see in the large 
picture on the full page. 

“That’s the way, Benny!” Minna is say¬ 
ing kindly. “ You rake up all the straw and 
sticks and stones that blow in from the street, 
and you pull the weeds up. See me do it! ” 

I like to think that Jesus saw her do it, 
and was glad. He says his children must be 
loving to each other. 


AND OTHER STORIES 


21 



22 


BERTHA'S GARDEN 


LITTLE MISS NOT-AFRAID 


OU know in the 
“Pilgrim’s Prog¬ 
ress ” there is a 
story about a 
man who had a 
daughter called 
Much-afraid. 
Janie used to 
think that was 
the f u n n i e s t 
story! 

“ I should n’t 
like to be called Miss Much-afraid! ” she 
would say, laughing. “I’m not afraid of 
things, except going up to bed all alone and 
hooking cows and bow-wow doggies! ” 
“When you get over 
being afraid of those, I ’ll 
call you Miss Not-afraid,” £§§§$ 
promised mamma. 






AND OTHER STORIES 


23 


But when a little girl is afraid of things, 
you know it is very hard to get over it all in 
a' minute. And many a time that summer 
little Janie got the name she did n’t like, and 



had to start all over again trying to be brave 
and trustful, in the dark as well as the day¬ 
light. Mother used to have a great many 
talks about it with her, and she told her how 





24 


BERTHA'S GARDEN 


much she hoped 
that as she grew 
older she would 
learn the real^ 
secret of courage. 

“ What is the 
sequit ? ” asked 
Janie. 

“Just trusting 
in your heavenly 
Father,” mamma 
told her. “ Be¬ 
cause, you see, 
he loves you 
better than any¬ 
body in the world 
can ever love 
you, and he is so 
strong and wise 
that he can do 
anything in the 
world to help you. So there is nothing to 
be afraid of. Just ask him to take all the 
care of you.” 



AND OTHER STORSES 


2 5 


One day Janie got lost. I don’t know how 
it happened. I suppose she wandered off a 
little way from the house, and then a pretty 
flower tempted her to go a little farther, and 
something else drew her on a few steps more, 
and the first thing she knew she could n’t find 
the way back again. It is a dreadful feeling. 

What do you think Janie did ? All at once 
in her fright and her tears a happy little 
thought crept into her heart. God sent it. 

“Trust in God!” it said. “Tell Jesus 
about it! ” 

So the little girl knelt right down there by 
a mossy log and did as the good thought told 
her. Then she felt better, and she did n’t 
cry any more, though she was all alone on 
the edge of the woods, and the house seemed 
as far off as ever. Somehow she did not feel 
afraid, but just as if Jesus was looking out 
for her. 

She ate some berries that grew close by, 
and chased some butterflies and then she sat 
down and made a bouquet of her posies, and 
then — then — then — she fell asleep ! 


26 


BERTHA'S GARDEN 


And that was the way they found 
her late that afternoon, almost night- 
fall, when they came through 
the tall grass and up to 
the edge of the woods 
where she had 
wandered. Oh, 
how glad they 
were! 

“You poor 
little thing! ” 
cried mamma. “How 
frightened you must 
have been ! ” 

“ Why, no, I was n’t! ” said Janie, cuddling 
close in her father’s arms as they carried her 
home. “ I ’membered about our heavenly 
Father— what you told me, you know ! ” 
“You darling!” said mamma. ' “Well, 
you’ve earned your name. After this, no¬ 
body shall ever call you Miss Much-afraid.” 

“ No,” laughed Janie. “ You’ve all got to 
say Miss Not-afraid, ’cause it’s true now. 
I’ve found out the way to make it! ” 





AND OTHER STORIES 


2 7 


WHAT MADE THE DIFFERENCE 


I. 

“ I do’ want anybody to have any of my 
things! ” screamed Mamie, throwing herself 



flat on the blue-covered couch, with her head 
down at the foot and her feet on the pillow. 

“Well, nobody’s going to touch your 
things, Crosspatch! ” said Jamie, putting 
back the picture-book he had taken up for a 
minute. “ Nice, selfish girl you are ! ” 



28 


BERTHA'S GARDEN 


“Don’t speak so, Jamie!” said mamma. 
“ Mamie, come to me and have your curls 
brushed out.” 

“ Better brush the kinks out of something 
else!” muttered Jamie, shutting the door 
hard behind him. 

Poor mamma! with two such children. 
Mamie was selfish and Jamie “answered 
back.” It made the house a dreadful place 
to live in. I wonder sometimes what kind 
of a home they thought it was for the Lord 
Jesus. 





AND OTHER STORIES 


2 9 


II. 

“Would you play dollies first, or go out 
and swing awhile ? ” 

Jennie had her arms around Katie, and 
Katie had her arms around Jennie, and they 



were both looking at the'lovely doll-house 
that Jennie’s Uncle Jack hadjust brought all 
the way from Santa Claus land, if you know 
where that is. That is where he said he got it. 


30 


BERTHA’S GARDEN 


“Oh, aren't they sweet!” said Katie, 
looking at the dollies. “ But my new ham¬ 
mock-swing is nice, too, and we could sit 
together in it under the trees and hear the 
birds sing. Do, please, try my swing, Jennie! ” 
“ All right,” said Jennie, “ if you will come 
and play house afterwards. Are n’t you glad 
we live right across the road from each other, 
so we can always play with each other’s things ? 
I should n’t like my dollies half so well if you 
did n’t help me dress and undress them.” 

“ Nor I,” said Katie, taking hold of hands 
and hop-skipping off with her little friend 
down to the pleasant orchard where the ham¬ 
mock swung. “ It’s all the fun to do nice 
things together.” 




AND OTHER STORIES 


31 





CHEER UP I 

Cheer up, cheer up, my darling! 

And never mind the storm; 
Drear skies and cloudy weather 
But keep us close together, 

So cosy, safe and warm. 

Cheer up, cheer up, my darling! 

And heed my happy rhyme; 
In low, brown beds a-sleeping. 
The patient flowers are keeping 
Their buds for blossom-time. 






32 


BERTHA'S GARDEN 


DOLLY'S GIANT STORY 


Once there was a 
giant. 

But I must begin at 
the other end of the 
story. Once there was 
a great mountain. 

The mountain was 
full of gold. 

Now you know gold 
is the most precious thing in the world, some 
people think. 

It is a real Aladdin’s lamp, and with it in 
your hand you can do and have and be al¬ 
most anything in this world. 

And when people found that this great 
mountain was full of it, the next thing was 
to break open this wonderful bank and get it. 

That was not easy to do. 

They picked away at the locks here and 
there; that is, they dug little holes and tun- 











AND OTHER STORIES 


33 


nels in the red clayey earth, and they took 
up panfuls of the loose soil and washed out 
the little yellow specks in it. 

But the gold lay down deep in the dark 
heart of the mountain, and the people grew 
discouraged about ever getting at it. 

One day a man came along and said, 
“ Why don’t you get a giant to help you ? I 
know one strong enough to break this old 
mountain all in pieces and carry it off on his 
shoulders.” 

How the men stared at that! “ Why,” 

they said, “ bring us your giant, and you shall 
have gold, and plenty of it! ” 

But when he brought the giant they 
laughed at him. 

Giant indeed! He was no bigger than a 
candle, and looked much like one. 

“ Never you mind his looks! ” said the 
man. “Just drill a little hole for him to lie 
in among the rocks of this mountain, and 
give him some fire to eat, and see what he 
will do.” 

The man was right after all. 


34 BERTHA'S GARDEN 

They made a deep hole in the rock for him, 
and they gave him “fire to eat ” (that is, 
touched a match to the long fuse he liked to 
carry around with him), and presto! the 
rocks flew, the mountain gates were open, 
and the glittering gold-specks gleamed in 
every fragment of rock. 

Since that nobody has despised little Giant 
Powder. 



AND OTHER STORIES 


35 


FOR BABY'S SAKE 


]\ /TY dears ! ” said mother, 
IVJL looking at the baby. 

But she was n’t speak¬ 
ing to the baby. 

I am afraid we were a rather 
rough-speaking set of boys and 
girls, take us all together. We 
had ways of saying “ Don’t 
touch!” and “Take care, 
there ! ” and “ No, I did n’t! ” 
and such things, in a sharp 
voice that used to make mother 
look up and shake her head at 
us. Not that we meant to quarrel, but we* 
were not gentle. When the baby came, it 
made a difference. 

Some children’s mothers are always saying, 
“ What will people think if you happen to do 
a thing?” Our mother used to say, “ What 




36 


BERTHA'S GARDEN 


will baby think?’’—just as if it were a great 
deal of matter. And it seemed as if baby 
himself got an idea of it, and used to follow 
us round with his eyes and watch us, and 
make up his mind what kind of boys and 



girls we were. Why, you don’t know how 
ashamed we used to get sometimes ! He was 
always after our toy soldiers and books and 
games, and tried to play just as we did. 

So, if you had lived in our house, you 
would have noticed that every time our 
voices got loud or we began any squabbling, 
mother would begin to say, 
“ My dears! ” and look at the 
baby. It was quite wonderful 
to see how our voices would 
soften, and how the one that 
was bad would be willing to 



AND OTHER STORIES 


37 


kiss and make up, for baby’s sake. It would 
be such a dreadful thing, as mamma said, to 
have him grow up with bad manners. 

But one day we did something that got 
baby and all into trouble. There was a 
barrel of something that 
was better than candy 
right in the corner of the 
pantry. Mother would n’t 
let us have candy. She 
said it was bad for chil¬ 
dren, except a little at 
Christmas and Thanksgiv¬ 
ing and birthdays. But 
she used to let us have lumps of sugar. 
You khow what they are — little square 
pieces, white and sweet and sparkling, like 
snow-crust on a cold, sunny morning. How 
we did like to crunch those sugars! Just 
three pieces apiece, every day, and not any 
more, though the barrel stood there all the 
time, and there always was a plenty more 
that we could have. 

“ I’m so hungry for a lump ! ” began Bessy, 



38 BERTHA'S GARDEN 

the minute mother 5 back was turned, one 
morning when she had to go down town for 
something. 

“There, children,” mother had said just 
before she went, “ you 
can each have some cam¬ 
bric tea, and some of 
these little biscuits and 
play party, while I am 
gone. It \s all sweetened 
— let the sugar alone. 
The doctor says it is n’t 
good for baby till he gets 
quite well again.” 

She put down the tray, 
and soon we saw her go¬ 
ing down the snowy road, 
and we turned to see' 
about our “ tea-party.” 

“ I’m so hungry for a 
lump ! ” said Bessy again. 
Nobody said anything, 
and Bessy kept hanging round the sugar- 
barrel as if she thought she could get a 



AND OTHER STORIES 


39 


taste through the cracks. It isn’t safe to 
hang around places that you want to get 
into. The next thing we knew, Bessy had a 
whole handful of lumps and was eating them ! 

And then what do you suppose we did? 
Helped our own selves, and took just as 
many as Bess did ! We felt so mean, but we 
did it! And worst of all, we looked around, 
and there was that baby on the floor with the 
cover off the fine-sugar bucket, and he was 
eating it by the spoonful! If he could n’t 
have lumps, he meant to get the next best 
thing. 

Right in the middle, in walked our mother ! 
Not one of us — baby or anybody — got an¬ 
other bit of sugar for a week. To think of 
our getting that poor little baby punished ! 
I promise you we are n’t going to be so mean 
again — for baby’s sake. 



40 


BERTHA'S GARDEN 



A BIRTHDAY RESOLUTION 

This is my picture. Says mamma, 

" My dear, my dear, how changed you are 1 
I hardly know at all 
If’t is the little girl I knew, 

With yellow curls and eyes of blue, 

When you were very small." 

She didn’t say (what I can see 
She thinks whene’er she looks at me, 

And lets a bright tear fall), 

“ You used to be so good, my dear! ” 

I hate, I hate that shining tear! 

I’m going to be as good this year, 

As when I was so small. 






AND OTHER STORIES 


41 



“ The long way round is the shortest way 
home, I guess! ” said grandma, laughing. 

Mother had been worrying because the 
children were so long getting home from 
school every night. Sometimes it would be 
almost supper time before a boy or girl 
popped a head in, and yet the answer al¬ 
ways was that they “ came home the short 
way.” The long way was as much as a mile, 
and nobody expected them to go and come 
quickly by that one, but if they came across 









42 


BERTHA'S GARDEN 


through the pasture, it ought not to take 
anybody more than ten or fifteen minutes 
from the schoolhouse door. Mother couldn’t 
understand it. 

Ben looked up as grandmother said that 
about the long way and the short way. She 
said it very often. 

“I’ll find out what it means!” said Ben. 
“There’s a big patch of ice in that pasture 
by now — maybe that helps to pass the time 
away.” 

That afternoon, about the time for school 
to let out, he went down to the edge of the 
pasture and spent his time cutting some little 
twigs and mossy bits of bark till the boys and 
girls came along. Just as he thought, they 
made for that nice big spot of ice back of the 
barn and the hayricks. A grand slide clear 
across it was good to begin with, and then of 
course they had to have another, and then 
another and another. Ben waited till he had 
counted up to ten good ones, and then he all 
at once jumped out of the bushes and ran 
after them. 


AND OTHER STORIES 


43 


“This is the way you hurry home when 
your mother wants you, is it ? ” he called in 
his “big-brother” voice. “I thought I’d 



catch you ! I’ve been watching you the last 
half-hour, and I ’ll have a fine story to tell 
when I get home ! ” 

The children begged, but it was of no use. 
He liked the idea of his fine story. 


44 


BERTHA'S GARDEN 


“ Go ahead! ” said Katy, after a while. 
“ Nobody cares what you tell. I ’m going to 
tell it my own self,” she said, starting for the 
house. “ I’d rather.” 

“Would you, really?” asked Ben, sur¬ 
prised. “ I thought 
you’d hate to.” 

“Do!” said Katy, 
running to get ahead 
of him. “ But’t would 
be meaner not to. I 
never thought how 
mean ’twas, anyway.” 

That was just it — 
Katy had n’t thought, 
and, of course, the 
younger ones had 
done just as she did. 
Oh, how many bad 
things are done by “ not thinking” ! 

“ We stay and slide on the ice, coming home, 
mother ! ” burst out Katy bravely, dashing into 
the sitting-room, where father and mother sat 
talking. ‘ ‘ That’s what makes us late nights! ” 






















AND OTHER STORIES 


45 


“You do!” said father. “You ought to 
be made to come home the long way after 
this, every night this winter! ” 

But mother said, “Why, dear child, I’d 
just as lief you would as not, if you’d only 
told me! You don’t need to do things on 
the sly to have a good time. You can go 
back now and stay till I ring the big dinner- 
bell.” 









46 


BERTHA'S GARDEN 


THE FIRE-SHINE 



At evening, in the red fire-shine, 

My grandpa calls me to his knee, 

And puts his face down close to mine, 
And asks me what I ’d like to see. 

Castles or crowned 
kings, or old, 
Bent, wrinkled 
fairies — all 
are there! 

I ’ve seen a splendid 
pot o’ gold, 
Big as the moon, 
and twice as 
fair! 

And there are wicked dwarfs that spite 
Good people all from morn to eve, 

And bears and other things that bite — 

I’m glad they ’re only make-believe. 



AND OTHER STORIES 


47 


But when I ask for 
stories, too, 

He says, “Ah, little 
lass o’ mine! 

You only dream the 
stories through 
To pictures in the red 
fire-shine.” 





48 


BERTHA'S GARDEN 


A LESSON BY HEART 



AY, Dan,.take me on?” 

Jamie asked it in such 
a pleading voice that you 
could hardly think of any 
boy as refusing, but Dan 
did. He was not a kind 
boy. Big, tall, strong, 
with the best sled in town 
and the best way of steer¬ 
ing and pushing it, I wonder what he thought 
he was made for! Some boys, with so many 
good things to be glad about, would have 
thought they were meant to go shares with 
some of them. But that was n’t Dan’s style. 
He thought his strength and health and so 
forth were all to enjoy himself with. 

“ Give the little fellow a chance,” said two 
or three at once, seeing Dan start selfishly off 
on the Rover, leaving his little crippled 



AND OTHER STORIES 


49 


brother looking after him. Poor Jamie 
would n’t have had many coasts down that 
splendid hill if it had depended on Dan, I’m 
afraid. The other boys were sorry, but they 
were having a good time, 
and, besides, some of them 
had their own brothers to 
look after. 

“Mother,” said Jack 
Everett, looking out of the 
window as he tried (or 
thought he tried) to study 
his Sunday-school lesson, 

“ let me off half an hour, 
won’t you, and I ’ll study 
twice as good when I 
come in. I want to do 
something out there — 
ought to be done — and 
right off this minute.” 

“Why, you only just 
came in, Jack,” said his mother. “And you 
said you wouldn’t go out again till you had 
that lesson. I don’t believe you know the 




5o 


BERTHA'S GARDEN 


Golden Text, to say nothing about the rest 
of it.” 

“Well, I don’t,” confessed Jack, laughing. 
“ But I tell you I will, mother. I ’ll learn it 
all by heart when I come in. 
I want to eo first and Mve that 
little Jamie Stimson a ride on 
my new sled.” 

“The lame boy?” said 
mother, looking out. “ Well, 
you may! Give him two or 
three — good ones.” 

So out he went, a brave, 
handsome little figure. Mother 
nodded in a pleased way over her mending. 

“ I guess he will have that lesson by heart 
all the better for beginning with the practice 
end of it,” she said, looking out to see how 
happy Jamie looked tucked up on the sled in 
front of him. 



AND OTHER STORIES 


51 


HER LITTLE VERSE 


Little Ruth was only three years old, so of 
course she could n’t learn a very big verse for 



the Sunday-school concert. But who would 
have thought she could n’t say a nine-word- 
long one ? 



52 


BERTHA'S GARDEN 


“ Just nine words ! ” said mamma, drilling 
her. “One for each of your fingers, if you 
don’t count in the little one with the ring on ! ” 

• So every day Ruth would say over her 
verse, counting off the words on her fingers, 
just as you see her doing in the picture. 
And nobody thought she could make a mis¬ 
take or not say it! 

But they did n’t know what she would do 
the night before the concert. You wouldn’t 
think those sweet little 
lips could say bad words 
or those soft, pretty eyes 
flash fire. Every night at 
supper-time, after she had 
had her bowl of bread and 
milk, she would 
go to the rock- 
y ing-chair with 

mamma and have 
the pink-heeled and pink-toed stockings taken 
off, and the pink-toed and pink-heeled feet 
well kissed, and then with a little white flan¬ 
nel nightgown slipped over her head, she 



AND OTHER STORIES 


53 


went to bed, not screaming and kicking and 
fretting to stay longer — oh, no, indeed. I 
have heard of such children, but I never ex¬ 
pected to see one, till — 

Well, as I was saying, she used to go to 
bed so sweetly. 

“ To each and all a fair good-night, 

And wosy dweams and s’umbers light! ” 

That was her good-night to everybody. 
But this night there was company, and Ruth 
did n’t want to go to bed. She would n’t say 
good-night. She cried so loud that every¬ 
body wished to be a mile away if there was 
no stopping her. And she said cross, naughty 
words to mamma that it would make my 
heart ache to tell you, and I won’t. 

Of course she got all over it. A dear little 
girl could n’t stay cross and naughty. And 
then mamma had such a sweet talk with her 
about it, and told her to say a little prayer to 
God to be forgiven, because it was the only way 
to get her heart clean and fit for God to see. 

Perhaps you don’t see why that should 
have made any difference about the concert, 


54 


BERTH A'S GARDEN 


but it did. Somehow, when she got up to 
say her little verse she thought about that 
screaming time, and felt so ashamed that slu 
just hid behind the pillar, and the superintend 
ent had to say it himself. Think of it! 
Don’t you hope she will be more careful after 
this, and try harder to keep her little heart 
snow-white for Jesus ? 



AND OTHER STORIES 


55 




SING AND LING 





56 


BERTHA'S GARB EH 


TWO LITTLE TEXTS 



HE two little boys on the 
other page used to go 


'to a Chinese Mission 
School. They were such cun- 
v ning little fellows ! One day 
their teacher said : “ Sing, I 
want you to learn a verse to 
say at the Sunday-school con¬ 


cert, and here is a good short 


one : ‘ Speak, Lord ; for thy servant heareth.’ ” 
“ Ling wants to say a verse, too ! ” said the 
good little older brother, who always tried to 
see that Ling did what he wanted to. The 
teacher smiled and said : “ Very well; only 
choose a good short one.” So at the Sun¬ 
day-school concert two funny little boys stood 
up, holding each other by the hand, and said, 
one after the other, the very same “ good, 
short verse ” : “ Speak, Lord ; for thy servant 
heareth.” 










AND OTHER STORIES 


57 



BABY'S RHYME 

What can a little girl 


Like me, 

Whose years have counted 
Only three, 

For Jesus really do ? 

My heart can love, 

My lips can sing, 

My little hands 

Can pennies bring; 
My feet can follow, too! 



















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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



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